Sgt. Grit,
Several months before I came home from S. Vietnam, I sat down one day to relax for a while and ended up writing a poem. It was a short and very insignificant poem to most people, but to my friends and me it meant a lot. Maybe I wrote it because I believed in America and the good things we stood for in this world. Maybe I wrote it because we in ‘Nam at the time were sick and tired hearing about the jackasses back home, the Fonda’s, and draft dodgers we were protecting. It’s amazing we in the service are called on to protect the liberties and rights of even those who don’t particularly care for our nation.
In any case, this is what I wrote:
Americans Unite
The seventeen months I’ve spent in ‘Nam have been slow,
Soon I’ll be going home to a country I don’t know.
Everything in it has changed, I’ve read,
The day I arrive I soon will dread.
The riots are raging like full-scale war,
Something I wish to see or hear no more.
If we here are to stand and fight,
Then the people at home must unite.
Communists and militants range far and wide,
Ripping apart our country’s morale, beauty and pride.
They must be stopped and put in full retreat,
Both here on the front and our own city streets.
Wake up Americans and take a look around,
You’ll see roving bands destroying your ground.
Look around and see your nation’s plight,
In hope that you too may then see the light.
The militants are no longer a mere pest,
They are causing our nation discomfort and unrest.
You must unite and form a common goal,
And force them from your own front door.
They will then get the idea and stay away,
‘Cause they’ll know you patriots are there to stay.
You then can be proud of yourself,
‘Cause your country was saved with your help.
Once again we’ll be strong not weak,
Able to work a peaceful five-day week.
No longer will our country be torn,
And you’ll be proud you’re American born…
After I wrote this several guys in my outfit encouraged me to send it to my local paper as an editorial. Most of the men in my outfit got sick and tired of hearing about the riots and the utterly worthless college students marching on campuses across the country who wouldn’t serve their country. Those worthless, useless panty waste traitors need to pack their bags and leave our country for good. We all felt like we didn’t need people in our nation who didn’t want to help defend it from aggression. And just as bad were all the reporters, especially Walter Cronkite, who only reported the news in very liberal and left wing very biased reports. Those reports were full of out and out lies, or at best half-truths, which they fed to the American public every night on the evening news. Amazingly to this day, many people still think Walter Cronkite was a red-blooded American who really loved this nation. If they looked back and really examined his newscasts, I think many would realize how far to the left he really was?
Sgt. John Bolton
MOS 2533 -Hq 4/11
Headquarters Battery
4th Battalion, 11th Marines
Vietnam – Oct 1967 – July 1969
Category: Poems
We At Home
This is a poem I wrote to put in a letter of encouragement and appreciation to a Marine in Iraq. Every single one of you is loved and missed.
We At Home
It’s hard to be a soldier in the days of war and tears,
But we at home are praying that the Lord will calm your fears.
Poem from Korea
Sgt Grit.
I had this poem in my possession since 1954 I wonder if some of your readers might know who wrote it.
MSgt E.O.Farkas
USMC Ret.
Poem reads:
Korea
Just below the D.M.Z.
On a hill side there's a spot
Where we are doomed to spend out time
In the land that God forgot.
World’s Best Fighting Man
You can keep your Army kyahk, You can keep your Navy Blue, I have the worlds best fighting man to introduce to you!! His uniform is different, the best you've ever seen, the Germans called him "Devil Dog" but his real name is "Marine!!" He was born on Parris Island, the place where God forgot, the sand was eighteen inches deep, and the sun was blazing hot!! He got up every morning before the rising sun, He'd run a hundred miles or more before his day was done!! He's deadly with a rifle, a boyonet made of steel, he took the warriors calling card and he mastered how to kill!! And when he gets to Heaven, to St. Peter he will say, "One more Marine reporting sir, I've served my time in Hell!!" I'm proud to say my Dad is a MARINE!!!
I Am A Soldier
I am a soldier
I am a fighter
I am a son
I am a glider
I am full of anger
I am full of fear
Though my time was called
Please don't shed a tear
For I have fought my battle
Though I have lost
But I have done my best
And this is the cost
To my country
Though I did fall
To my family
I love you all
I have done my best
To stay alive
The rules of engagement
I did abide
Till I come home
Please show your support
For I am a soldier
And this is my report…
The Lonely Soldier
When a heart is broken
What does it feel
Is it like a rollercoaster
The turning of the wheel
When a heart is broken
Does it even cry
Like the rain fallen from heaven
Of the dark cloudy sky
When a heart is broken
Does it feel blue
Like the depths of the ocean
With the water pure and true
When a heart is broken
Does it feel alone
Like a soldier on the field
With all of his brothers gone
When a heart is broken
Does it feel like this
I'm just a lonely soldier
In a country that has just one wish…
Your Son
Your Son
Gene E. Blant
To the Mothers and the Fathers
Of United States Marines
Who have fought and bled and died
So that freedom?s bell still rings
From the Halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli
From the alleys of Fallujah
To the frozen Yudam-ni
From the sands of Iwo Jima
To the hills around Khe Sanh
From the smoky hell of Belleau Woods
Your Son fought and won
I Tied A Yellow Ribbon Today
I Tied A Yellow Ribbon Today
Here is a poem that I wrote the other night for my son now serving in the Marines over in the war in Iraq, I think that all parents can relate. Please print if you can.
Thank you
Theresa Walker-Keegan
I tied a yellow ribbon for you today.
You are so far away.
The days come and go without end,
I can’t wait for you to come home again.
When you were born on that December Day.
I prayed to God to never take you away.
A tear rolled down my cheek,
as I looked into your beautilful eyes.
Knowing that one day you might have to go
war, too save all our lives.
And now the future has come true,
As I sit here and write to you.
Iraq is where you are at,
out in the desert in the heat,
sweaty and wearing a big back pack.
You never complain or regret,
the sacrifices that you have made,
or the time you have spent.
Making sure that when I go to bed at night,
I can wake up and see freedom’s light.
Christmas in the Marines
I got this when I was in (66 to70). The Marines and former Marines I send it to enjoy it. You have to be a Marine to appreciate the poem.
Christmas in the Marines
provided by Dennis G.
T’was the night before Christmas,
And all through the Corps,
Not a soul had liberty,
And the troops were all sore.
Wounded Heroes
Wounded Heroes
Debbie Bell
We see the wounded heroes,
pain and sadness in their eyes.
They served their country well
as they paid so high a price.
Their wounds may not be seen
–they’re not visible to the eye.
Their hurts go way down deep,
where they’ve tucked them, deep inside.